


Getting Found

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit of everything, Descriptions of Sex but It's Fluffy and Not Detailed, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied Sexual Content, Including a George Strait reference, Interrupting Dean, Main Character is Nephilim, Men of Letters Bunker, Nephilim, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Short & Sweet, Some Humor, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Never did you think getting lost in someone else would be possible until you met Sam Winchester.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my good friend and fellow Sam stan, Jess. Thank you for being amazing.

 

Legs, hips, and shoulders. Mouths and tongues slipping and sliding, pressing and pulling, giving and taking, wandering—no, not wandering, it can’t be, not the way his lips move across your body, taking the time to suck supernovas onto your starless canvas. Hot breaths and short moans, neither of you stopping until you’ve thoroughly explored space.

Never did you think getting lost in someone else would be possible until you met Sam Winchester.

Suddenly, you hear the door open. You scramble beneath the covers in haste. You’re certain Sam can feel your heart like a stone skipping across endless waters as the interrupter’s voice comes in strong:

“Sammy, pack your bags, we’ve gotta go if we’re gonna hit Amarillo by morning.”

In the angel realm, he’s known as the Righteous Man (although, angel radio has been all but static when it comes to that quite literally God-given title). In the hunter realm he’s known simply as Dean Winchester.

Being Nephilim, you know well enough how hard it is to find family. Humans put great emphasis on it. Angels _supposedly_ do too. But since you’re not woven into either family crest, you have to attempt to blend in with one or the other. You chose humans, knowing well enough you’d be Shish Kabobed if the angels found you. (And, okay, Sam may or may not have influenced your decision after a particularly risky hunt when you confessed your true identity, to which he just intertwined your hands with his like something out of a romcom and said, “I have demon blood coursing through my veins. You have angel mojo coursing through yours. We cancel each other out.”)

You hear Sam groan and, to your disillusionment, sit up straighter on the bed. “Texas?” he mumbles, despite the tension you can feel in his chest. “Dean, it’s eleven at night.”

“Exactly. And if we get a move on now, we can make it before eight.”

“Can’t this case wait until tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because,” you hear Dean say, as if it’s as obvious as why the sun rises in the east, “our case is a sirloin steak topped with hash browns and a fried egg special for five bucks before 10am.”

“So you’re getting the senior discount,” Sam sasses.

A giggle slips from your mouth, followed by a muffled comment.

“What was that?” Dean asks.

You'd give anything to see the flushed look on Sam’s face. He’s too cute when he blushes, the way he ducks his head and laughs, trying to hide the blush fanning across his wide forehead and dimpled cheeks to no success.

So instead of giving anything, you simply poke your head out from underneath the covers. “I said,” you say to Dean while wrapping your arm around Sam’s tan and slightly tickly bare chest, “Count me in.”

“See!” Dean exclaims as he gestures to you, completely unfazed by your sudden presence. “Y/N agrees with me! And since she’s family, you’re outnumbered three to one. Cas is already on his way home.”

“Cas can’t even eat food!” Sam argues, to which you laugh. Having no biological brothers and sisters (that you know of, anyway), it’s hard for you to know how two brothers are supposed to act around each other, but the petulant tone in which Sam uses towards Castiel (another being that gets talked about a lot over angel radio) you would have to guess sounds a lot like sibling combativeness.

“Yeah, well, he’s a weird, dorky little guy, but his vote still counts,” Dean attests, and having not been with anyone like Sam, it’s hard to say how someone who’s love-struck is supposed to act around the person they love, but the affectionate tone in which _Dean_ uses towards Castiel, you would have to guess sounds a lot like romantic love.

“We leave in fifteen, so get dressed,” Dean says, clearing his throat before adding, “And take a shower. You both stink like sex.”

With that, Dean closes the door—of course, being Dean, not without a proud smile crossing his face first.

Sam sighs as he rolls off his back and onto you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “Ugghhh, why do you have to encourage him?”

“I think you’re missing a critical element here,” you laugh conspiringly in his ear, causing his hair to dance.

Sam lifts his head to look you in the eyes. His are a whirlwind of colors. Like a washing machine running all kinds of colored clothes at once. “And what might that be?” he asks.

Wiggling your eyebrows and wrapping your hand around his shoulder, you say, with a blooming smile on your face, “We’ve got fifteen minutes.”

You watch as a smile tugs on the corner of his lip, and then he’s diving in for a searing kiss.

No, you think, kissing him back with the same passion and letting your hands glide down the seemingly never-ending plain of his back, you’re not lost.

 

 

You’re found.

 


End file.
